


A Reward for You, My Good Hunter

by Scythe_of_Starlight



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, French Kissing, Gehrman (mentioned), Height Differences, Minor Height Kink, Romantic Fluff, Safe For Work, The Hunter Has a Praise Kink, The Tags Make the Author Nervous About Uploading This, Very Gentle Femdom, Very Selective Muteness, headpats, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scythe_of_Starlight/pseuds/Scythe_of_Starlight
Summary: Given this silent Hunter's rather aloof nature, the Plain Doll has been wondering how best to show her appreciation for all his hard work...then she gets an idea to reward him.





	A Reward for You, My Good Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> I've never used such lewd tags before...hope it goes well!
> 
> And to preface; Godly Givings' is something I made up, it's just Bloodborne Christmas
> 
> Edit: I HAVE NEVER HAD A STORY OF MINE BREAK A THOUSAND HITS BEFORE. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!!  
Edit 2: Thank you all for 1,300 hits!!! ❤  
Edit 3: 1,400 HITS!!!! Thank you everyone!!!! ❤❤  
Edit 4: Seriously, my heart goes out to everyone that contributed to these 1,500+ hits!! I love you all!!!💕💕

Ah yes, the Hunter's Dream.

  
A place far above the reaches of the mangled beasts and rampant bloodthirsty Hellscape that is Yharnam. Drowned in the light of the heart achingly beautiful full moon and ever present fog, the worn stone walkway remains halfway lined with overgrown greenery; running wild and untamed. As he steps closer to the great Gothic Workshop he's walked to again and again over the course of this odd yet oddly engaging journey, the white flowers become more and more prominent until they surpass the abundance of the aforementioned green.

Looking upward however is a familiar figure, against the ages old stone wall; next to the weakly lit lantern that pales in comparison to the bright moonlight behind them, is the Doll. Standing up right on her own she waves in a very exaggerated if methodical manner, as if she'd only just discovered that waving were a natural human custom from a certain someone, and wanted to attempt it for herself...

Unsure if she'd noticed that she'd been noticed, the Hunter waves back, in a much more natural way, the type of way one would greet an old friend. Funny it is to think that the Hunter found her imitation of human life quite creepy when he first arrived here.

Yet, the Doll persists. Could it be that something strange had happened while he was out hunting? In a place that seems locked in stasis?

Curiosity peaked, the Hunter quickened his pace and makes his way toward her, limp in his leg ignored.

This Hunter is never one for conversation, the most her questions and queries ever arose out of him was a curt nod or an equally curt shake of the head. The Doll has met a number of aloof and mute Hunters, like he, in the past all ranging from a variety of backgrounds, and often contemplated by her lonesome on how such Hunters express their complaints and anxieties without the luxury of verbalization that those with it take for granted.

How many had chosen to stop speaking? How many had been born with such an affliction? How many injured and forced to remain silent? Was there any who were envious of the Hunters who loved nothing more than to converse and form joyous friendships with such ease?  
But more important than those aimless questions was this:  
How does a mere living Doll help a Hunter like this feel appreciated?

Tonight, she has summoned the ambition to test out an idea. And to exact her plan, she summons him herself this time.

The Hunter in question is a sadistic sort who seems to derive a twisted pleasure out of striking down beasts in the pursuit of strength and insight. Stake Driver in the right, Gatling Gun in the left. Both weapons dyed a brilliant scarlet as the tattered and battle worn attire he has on proves bloodied enough to leave red footprints and droplets on each step he ascends. The limp further proves that whatever beast he'd just barely won against, and his own trademark recklessness had almost killed him again. But at last, this silent-and-stoic type Hunter has made it to the Doll's side...

...and seems to stop in his tracks when she takes the careful strides necessary to come face to face on the stone platform. From behind the low brim of his favorite hat and the cover of his black face mask, the Hunter quietly scans his pitch red eyes up and down the silver haired Doll.

In her soft spoken manner she greets him a little differently.  
"Welcome home Good Hunter. I am glad that you responded to my summoning. I was eagerly awaiting your return."

Though nothing set off the warning signs in his head, his highly tuned attention to potential danger remains on high alert. That fact is evident from that hyper focused glint in his eye.

It's not like he's the shortest person in the world but...  
...had she grown since he last saw her, or has this Doll always been this tall...?

"Don't be afraid, Good Hunter. I am not your enemy, nor have I ever been."

Ever so slightly he lowers his guard. Whatever almost killed him must've been quite severe, she figures.

"There is nothing wrong either. In fact I wish to give you a reward. However small it may be, I hope to show my appreciation for all of your hard work thus far."

It would seem that all the finely dressed Doll had to say was 'reward'. The Hunter visibly perked up at the word’s utterance and in the Doll's imagination, she envisioned two pointed beast ears suddenly break through the Hunter's hat alongside a rapidly wagging tail that shown itself from the back of his terribly torn long coat. All signs of unease had vanished completely.

The Doll chuckles softly at the mental imagery. Though she didn't need to ask,  
"Would you be willing to accept something like that from me?"

The Hunter nods vigorously, his now wide eyes practically sparkle in the harsh moonlight.

Inwardly, the Doll hopes that she isn't going to disappoint whatever divinely wrapped Godly Givings' present he's expecting.

"Please now Good Hunter, it's nothing at all extravagant. It's only a mere gesture of affection."

But still his posture hasn't loosened.

Her long eyelashes close for a second as the Ball Jointed Doll heaves a small sigh at her Hunter's impending expression of disappointment.

"First, I request that you remove your hat and face mask. Is that alright?"

Instead of any amount of disappointment, the Hunter only gives a very slow tilt of his head. Presumably confused as to where the Doll is going with this. A choice couple of words from Gehrman reverberate through the masked Hunter's memory:  
_"...even the Doll, should it please you..."_

  
The look in his eye changes from one of anticipation to a mix of fear and worry as he bends down and places his weapons on the ground as softly as he could. Even through the clanging of sharp metal making impact with solid stone, the Hunter's gaze never left the Doll's.

But regardless, and very cautiously, the Hunter indeed carries out the Doll's request. Bringing a gloved hand to bring down his face mask the Hunter inhales the cold night air and exhales a sigh, revealing the rather handsome face of a young man in his prime. A small set of fangs resting proudly among his other rows of teeth.

Had the hunt gotten to his head, or are those fangs merely hereditary in his family, the Doll wondered momentarily.

In one swift motion, the Hunter takes off his hat. Shaking his head twice or three times to allow his surprisingly luscious light brown hair a chance to breathe after so long spent getting flattened in that hat. It's no more than neck length, but the volume and natural bounce of it could have someone mistake him for a girl if they looked upon him at a certain angle or another. Carelessly, he tosses the hat over to the bricked stone ledge the Doll always sits on, and uses that hand to readjust his bangs to keep them out of his eyes.

The Doll wondered if a haircut were in order.

Without a moment's notice, she complimented his newly revealed face,  
"Thank you, Good Hunter. I must also say, I would like to see you like this more often as you are quite handsome."

As if such words were expected the Hunter turned away slightly, halfway performing a hair flip. With his arms crossed and wearing something of a side-glare, he refuses to smile or acknowledge the Doll's affectionate remark.  
As if to silently say: _"I know."_

How arrogant!

The Doll can't help but smile for him.

"Now then, without further delay, my Good Hunter's reward."

That got his attention.

The Doll closes the distance between the two of them at an easy pace, the Hunter doesn't inch backward despite the guise of apathy he now seems committed to. Looking up at her face, he stays to his spot, even if looking up at a female doll is something he never thought he'd be doing in his lifetime. The Hunter's cheeks grant his paler complexion with the softest tinge of pink from beneath the shadow she casts over his normally proud self.

"Stay still if you please."

_"...even the doll, if it pleases you..."_

Those words echo in his mind once again, triggering a minor chill to creep down his spine.

Yet, he braces himself for the absolute worst as goosebumps form on his skin.

  
"..."

The Doll's adoringly crafted hand of ball jointed fingers gently touch the top of the Hunter's head of unkempt hair.

The tension that had built in the Hunter's shoulders from how much he'd been bracing himself easily lifted at the light rubbing sensation that graces his scalp. Though the unease still flickers in his chest like the lantern's pitiful flame.

The Doll smiles down at the Hunter who has worked himself to exhaustion time and time again for the sake of the Hunter's Dream, her artificial fingers interlaced in the messy strands and locks only to card through as she pulls away, before raising her hand to find a new place to fiddle with. Slowly and rhythmically the Doll goes through the Hunter's hair, careful not to get her joints caught in a strand and wind up bringing him pain from it. She knows that he would never trust her again if that were to happen.

She loves humans too much to allow herself to even think about harming one.  
She loves him too much to even think about harming him.

Meanwhile the Hunter has relaxed a great deal under her porcelain palm. The pink that lit his cheeks now burn a brighter red shade, the new weakness in his knees force him to tap his sprained leg's foot in an attempt to mask it as irritation or impatience. Something about the way the Doll also gently scratches his head brings with it the odd urge to bite his lip. While his eyes grow unfocused and hazy as if this were giving the wary Hunter a real sense of...comfort?

Finding comfort from a living Doll? Shouldn't that be absurd…? From anyone else, it would be patronizing and insulting to his core! He comes from a highly respected lineage of blue--or, **pale**blooded Nobles, dammit! Something so demeaning from a being that isn't even human shouldn't be comforting nor pleasurable in the least!

And yet...

"Good Hunter, Good Hunter."

The voice of the sentient Doll softly repeats the arrogant and reckless Hunter's little nickname: Good Hunter.  
The young man in question finds himself hinging on those two words, the beating of his heart speeds up that extra bit more for every time it's cooed out. Faster too does his face light up with that extra bit of warm blood. For how discreetly he tried to play it off, the Hunter could only mimic his pensive tic by placing a finger over his lips to hide the fact that he was breathing just a bit heavier.

This didn't escape the Doll's benevolent vigilance.

"You are a magnificent Hunter, I must say. To use the Gatling Gun alongside something as powerful as the Stake Drive, your skill is exceptional indeed."

Inanimate though she once was, that won't stop her from engaging in a bit of 'buttering up' and 'teasing' as the humans coin it.

“The merciless bloodshed left in your wake must be a terrifying sight to behold. Even the Great Ones tremble with fear in your presence, isn't that right? You are an impressive one. My Good Hunter."

The Hunter's breath only grew heavier as a bead of sweat shown his more timid side. His heart started to pound when her fingers began curling locks of his hair. Looping the newest one 'round her index finger into a tight coil, then letting it unravel on it's own.

"Always doing your best to survive in such a desolate and cursed city as this, the waking world is surely blessed to have you among them."

The blush spreads across the bridge of his nose and halfway lights his ears aflame. The Hunter's legs begin wobbling, unable to withstand the pressure of standing upright. Inch by inch he sheepishly steps closer to the taller Doll, thinking that she'd make a good brace right about now. It's not that he can feel himself beginning to swoon from the praise he so desperately yearned for since leaving his Noble standing.

Surely not!

The Doll lovingly pats the affection-starved Hunter's head all the while he softly clings to the shoulders of her immaculately made dress. She raises her other arm to embrace him fully.

"Good Hunter, such a Good Hunter you are."

Reaching around her, the bashful Hunter tries to embrace the Doll as well, trying to overlook the fact that his height makes his flushed and sweating face meets directly with her chest...

The Doll lightheartedly giggles at her Hunter's ready willingness to completely melt; practically on her command. For someone so headstrong and foolhardy to turn into a meek and quivering puddle at her feet over such a simple gesture like a pat on the head, it is somewhat unexpected...

...and so very endearing.

The Doll calls to the shorter human who remains pressed against her artificial figure like it were a lifeline.  
"Good Hunter...?"

Red faced and dreary eyed, he fixes his gaze to meet her's. A small noise comes from his throat, not unlike a grunt of confirmation.

With her fingers continuing to stroke his hair,  
"This is my reward to you. I'm truly sorry that it's something so insignificant and minuscule. Have I betrayed your expectations?"  
A pang of regret sparked out from the Doll's supposedly hollow chest. Whether it were real or fake is anyone's guess.

She isn't surprised when the Hunter's eyes widen as he rapidly shakes his head. Clearly trying to show that he very much enjoys this reward of his. Clenching tighter to her back to help himself bring the point home.

"Do you find this to be pleasurable?" A number of past Hunters wouldn't dare let the Doll touch them unless absolutely necessary, the sheer scope in human uniqueness was always so astounding to her.

Then, for the first time, this Hunter of hers tries to put a voice to his emotions. Heart pounding and restlessness worsening all the while his underused vocal cords are forced into functioning again.  
"...a-ah..."

"There's no need to rush my Good, Good Hunter..." she affirms, "...words are not necessary at this time. We can stay like this for as long as you desire."

"Ahh...ah..."  
But the Hunter's frustration leads to him attempting to inch closer with the aid of his tiptoes. Bouncing ever so softly on his uninjured leg, seemingly out of a mild desperation of some kind. The Doll hopes that she hasn't teased him too much and brought him to his limit this quickly.

"Is there something wrong?"

The trembling Hunter shakes his head again and huffs out a sigh, shifting uncomfortably in place still on his tiptoes. Lightly pulling downward on the Doll's cowl, not to tear it off, but to bring her closer to him. As his attempts to reach her have been unsuccessful.

Half unconsciously he shakily brings his tongue out and quickly licks his lips, giving only half-second glances at the porcelain lady's own pair. The level of craftsmanship that went into her creation had already blown his expectations out of the mortal realm, and he wants to know if...

_"...even the doll, should it please you.."_

_ **Get out of my head, Gehrman, you creepy old man...!!** _

"You want a kiss as well...?"

Startled, the Hunter squeaks with a jolt. Not sure if he should turn heel and run from this embarrassing situation or admit to the frustration that comes from being this close yet so painstakingly far. The Hunter shyly looks to the stone ledge that carries his hat and the lantern, wishing to be captivated by anything else for a second.

After a second, he nods in pure defeat.

Always happy to indulge in whatever her Hunter's desires are, the Doll smiles. Gently she brings a ball jointed palm to his flustered cheek, guiding his head to face her once again.

The Hunter swallows as he feels his hands grip harder into her dress and his limping leg bends at the knee far back enough for it to be raised off the ground, like a woman in a romance novel would... He goes glancing at her soft looking lips thrice times over with nervous anticipation.

A light red blush somehow fills the Doll's almost pure white cheeks, she brushes her thumb on her hopeless Hunter's burning face; catching an anxious teardrop just before it left his eyelashes.

  
The Hunter lets his heavy eyelids close shut as he weakly calls out,  
"...ah, D-Doll..."

"Don't worry my Good Hunter. I have already said that I truly do love you. I'll happily prove it to you now."

Without an ounce of hesitation, the Doll flawlessly brings his shivering lips to her own. She invited him to enjoy this reward by being the first to place her tongue in his mouth, toying with his own like an experienced lover would with the tongue of a novice: playfully. And in turn he reciprocated instantly, if quite clumsily.

The sense of wondrous fulfillment the lonesome Hunter achieved in his heart proved that the thing wasn't nearly as dead as he thought, the feeling budded and blossomed into something vibrant and so very warm. Suddenly finding himself hopelessly enraptured by this unfamiliar-yet-deeply-nostalgic sensation, he manages to selfishly embrace the Doll at her shoulders even harder. Desperately groaning so much that he's making himself blush like mad. 

With the full moon and gorgeous architecture of the Old Workshop, placed within a meadow of white flowers and enveloped in a thick fog, the whole scene was too romantic for the Hunter to possibly resist from surrendering himself completely. The stubborn amount of anxiety and fear that had been stuck in him since this 'reward' began was let go in a few long muffled cries of pure bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be real with ourselves, "Good Hunter" is a pet name and this Hunter is a hypocrite.


End file.
